


Penance

by BajinSetan



Category: Alien vs Predator (2004), Aliens vs Predators Series - Various Authors, Predator Original Series (1987-1990), Predators (2010)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Action, Canon Non-Binary Character, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Forced Labor, Graphic Violence, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Multi, Other, Pining, Prison, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Teratophilia, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-06-11 03:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15306585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BajinSetan/pseuds/BajinSetan
Summary: Rhoma is sentenced to life on a prison vessel where she is forced to work, fight, or die. Her only hope of survival is the tentative pact she’s made with a vicious Yautja called Dragon. The force of their bond could bring them both something they never expected to find.





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! This is my first predator fic. It's dumb and indulgent but I hope you enjoy anyway! If you'd like to see pictures of Rhoma and Dragon please follow me on tumblr @bajingoarts // nsfw: @smuttythingsandchickenwings or twitter @Bajingoo // nsfw: @Bajinsintime

“Let’s go.”

The Peacekeeper stood in the doorway, his tone cool and impatient.

She scrutinized him. The woman called Rhoma kept her back to the wall where she sat in her dark concrete cell.

“Best start moving honey. If the ship leaves without you well…”

He paused and Rhoma could spot the hint of a sleazy smile behind his cold impassive visor.

“...We’d take good care of you.”

He slapped his nightstick against a thick leather glove to emphasize his words. The rubber made a sickening squeezing sound.

Rhoma’s lip twitched. She stood and followed him out.

She was pushed onto the ramp of the airship, the same sleazy Peacekeeper escorted her. He kept a firm, painful grip on her upper arm, completely indifferent to her grunts of protest as he manhandled her. It was obvious he was making no attempt to be gentle, but Rhoma was convinced he was intentionally being rough.

He was lucky that visor covered his face. She remembered faces.

Her hands were bound tightly and the whirr of the lock beam reverberated on her wrists in a way that made her teeth grind. Escape was out of the question. There was a guard perched at every corner of that loading bay. Blinding spotlights and cannons trained on her. Ready to strike her down without hesitation.

The facility where she was being held was nestled within a sheer mountain side, with nothing below or around them for miles accept for angry jagged rocks waiting for someone stupid enough to jump to escape. Even if she managed to slip past them, out of her shackles, and off the loading dock, she had nowhere to go. All she could do was face forward and walk.

As they ascended the ramp of the ship, the unmistakable stench of bodies packed in tight quarters hit her. Not a pleasant smell, but it sparked old memories of early mornings at the military base.

Stuffy, hot air that clung to Rhoma’s skin in little beads of sweat. Bodies shuffling close, shoulder to shoulder as they tried their best to fight for space in the holding bay of the ship. Rhoma remembered briefly the buzz of excitement she had felt when she began that journey. Full of hope that she would excel, be given high honors and praise, make friends, maybe even find a place to call home.

But that’s not how life worked. At least, not for people like her.

As soon as she stepped to the mouth of the ship, Rhoma looked over the passengers and her stomach sank. 20 other prisoners on that ship and every single one of them alien. All of them scattered throughout the interior of the holding bay. All of them criminals in the eyes of the Ministry. Filthy and undesirable.

They all stopped what they were doing to stare and analyze her. She was a human being sent to an alien prison facility. Her appearance was “odd” to them, she supposed. Even though Rhoma was fit with toned muscle and her deep beige skin was peppered with all manner of scars from combat.

Any other place, she would have been feared, maybe even admired. But, Rhoma was no threat here. They all knew it.

The guard behind her bade her to move with a quick jab, swiftly ending her train of thought. The menagerie of aliens moved out of their way, flashing huge teeth as their strange eyes followed her. Rhoma did her best to keep her gaze low to avoid direct eye contact. She knew not to provoke any of them, lest she offend one and they descend upon her and tear her weak flesh to ribbons.

Her only peace of mind was that their movement was restricted, just as hers was. Stirpped of all their belongings and given nothing but sterile gray jumpsuits with their numbers printed on their arms. Some even sporting muzzles, which did little to hide the menacing gleam of teeth as she passed them.

This place felt like a zoo, a pack of wild dogs corralled into a cage and put on leashes. Wolf packs assigned the roles and enforced them with strict aggression. Rhoma recognized the unspoken role she’d been assigned. These aliens had natural abilities that made them stronger, smarter, and more equipped to the dangers that lay ahead.

She was just human. Which meant she was at the bottom.

The guard offered little comfort as he shoved her harshly into the wall of the ship. She let out a grunt and spun around to glare at him with daggers in her eyes. Any protest she had died on her lips as she was only greeted by her own furious reflection in his visor. She looked miserable and tired. It infuriated her as she saw the corners of that smile appear once more, amused at her defeat and submissiveness.

He waited for her shackle to connect then turned heal without a word and left the ship to continue his duties. Probably off to harass more prisoners with threats of violence disguised as discipline.

So there she stood. Left to the mercy of her fellow prisoners.

She pressed her back to the wall and kept her gaze low. A feeble attempt to satisfy some primal urge to protect herself from ambush. Really, she hoped the wall might swallow her up. She didn’t understand why they wouldn’t put them all in individual cages when they traveled. Fights were sure to break out. It was probably more affordable to let prisoners kill each other instead.

“Fucking cheap pricks.” Rhoma cussed under her breath.

A smaller alien with a green tint to its scales scurried closer to Rhoma. She repressed a flinch as it leaned forward to attempt a look at her face.

“Human? Human? How come? How come?”

It’s voice came out fast and high pitched, through needle-like teeth. The sound made her own teeth hurt.

“Human...”

An enormous grey alien threatened her from across the ship. Its voice slightly broken as if it struggled with english words.

Rhoma feigned ignorance, acting as if she never heard it speak. To put it simply, this thing was the biggest fucker on the ship. At a glance, it was vaguely humanoid. It had oily, hairless, hippo like skin. Its eyes were like huge black billiard balls resting in it’s skull. Its wide mouth held yellow jagged tusks that fit neatly together.

The other aliens gave it a wide berth. Surely not only for their own safety but because of its pungent odor. She could smell it all the way from where she was. A nasty invasive smell, like body odor and sour milk all mixed together. The image of it moving around the ship and all the other creatures running away comically to avoid the smell popped into her mind. Although still dangerous, the idea made it less threatening. The thought made the edges of her mouth twitch with a smile.

An action she immediately regret, as her response only seemed to anger it. It gave guttural growl and she felt the whole ship vibrate as it lumbered over towards her. It took the aliens next to it with it as it moved, helpless to stop it as their connected chain pulled them forward like dogs. The little green alien scrambled away, smart enough to know not to get in it’s way.

It slammed her against the wall with ease before she could even avoid the attack, pinning her there with its elbow. She hit the wall with a heavy thud and the back of her skull sang with pain.

“Human pretty gooood. Eata many in my time….”

The sour odor blew over Rhoma’s face and into her nose as it spoke. Her eyes stung. She could feel the bile in her throat.

She turned her head away sharply. Forced to hold her breath to keep the vomit at bay. It didn’t help that the brute was pressing his weight down on her chest, leaving her unable to take in a full breath.

“...been so loooong…..” It let the words slither out. The stench from it’s mouth clung to the air around her face like some horrible suffocating gas.

Rhoma choked and rasped. Feeling her eyes bulge in her head and her throat burn. She thought for sure the smell alone would knock her out, if not the lack of oxygen.

The Peacekeepers were nowhere to be found. Even as the other prisoners became riled and excited at the prospect of blood. Even the aliens connected to the gray beast chittered and bounced in anticipation. A chorus of growling, chattering, and hissing began to swell and intensify. Everyone erupted in chaos, jostled and on edge, like animals starved for meat.

The gray beast stuck out its long flat tongue, taunting inches away from her skin. All the sounds blurred together into a cacophonous roar in her ears.

Rhoma wasn’t sure if this is how she expected to die. Suffocated by a nasty hippo alien in a ship with a bunch of other aliens excited to watch her bleed.

But then, she never saw herself growing old, surrounded by loved ones or some postcard bullshit like that. So she supposed it didn’t matter much how she died. Death was her business after all. Why should it frighten her?

Just as the darkness began to creep around the corners of her vision, everything stopped.

No growls, no chatter. Just a few heavy footsteps ascending the ramp.

Suddenly everyone’s attention shifted to the mouth of the ship. The creature finally took its grotesque face away from hers, dropping her unceremoniously. Rhoma crumbled to the floor in a violent fit of coughing, her lungs burned. Nervous sweat dripped down her neck and spittle dribbled down the corners of her mouth. She cussed under her raspy breath. She must have looked absolutely pathetic. Her muscles tensed with rage and she wanted to scream at the frustration of it all.

The lack of freedom, the taunts, and the fact she might very well die here were all realities she could bare with for the most part. But the humiliation, the complete and utter removal of whatever dignity she clung to…it was too much.

The hate bubbled up in her making her cheeks burn. She wished, which she was not oft to do, that her gaze alone would melt the beast into a pile of ash as gray and disgusting as its skin.

Somehow, through her rage, she caught a flash of red that popped against the dark metal of the ship interior. It brought her out of her blind fury and she lifted her head to try and get a better look. Straining to see what everyone else was gawking at.

When she did see it she felt her muscles tense. Her eyes went wide and she forgot completely about the danger the gray alien posed. Now fully focused on the danger making its way through the ship.

A Yautja.

Yautja were hunters and were widely regarded as savage evil beings without empathy or mercy. Largely due to the fact that they made a cute little habit of hunting other intelligent beings for sport and conquest.

The amount of huntings dwindled as humans conquered the mysteries of space. It became difficult for Yautja to hunt without notice. They quickly became nothing more than stories and myths on earth. Monsters to scare children at bedtime. Cryptids that stupid teenages went looking for after dark.

But the creature Rhoma saw was very real.

It was a hellish red color and huge. Its body bulged with well toned, lethal muscle. The color of its hide stood out so intensely against the grays and browns of the rest of the prisoners. Apparently they hadn’t tried to force it into the required clothing like the rest of them. The face was covered by an onyx mask framed by long dark, dreads adorned with metal cuffs. It was a terrifying visage of death, impassive and bleak.

Two peacekeepers escorted it. Though it looked less like an escort and more like the two of them were moving a sensitive nuclear bomb. They moved behind it, their cattle prods-like weapons pointed at it with tense focus and ready to fire at the slightest sign of hostility.

Even constrained in thick metal shackles this thing oozed power. Every inch thick with hostility. A trained and well bred murderer.

Every creature on the ship gave it a wise respectful distance as it strode past them. They all knew humans were weak. But they also knew that Yautja were not.

As the trio moved, Rhoma realized that they were going to put the fucking thing next to her. It was the only space left. She would have laughed at the irony. The weakest creature there, shackled to the deadliest. But the intense sensation of foreboding kept her from the humor of it all.

The gray alien still stood near her. Staring down the red Yautja like a new challenger had approached him, its chainmates obviously wanting no part of of this. She had no idea what possessed it to do this. Perhaps it thought because of its slight size advantage, it could stand up to the Yautja. Perhaps it was worried about its position as biggest fucking cock shit.

Rhoma did not want to be caught in the middle of some alien dick measuring contest. But unable to move away, the full form of the Yautja came into view, and she found herself gazing up at the creature.

It was much more terrifying up close. The texture of its skin was spiked and pebbly like a crocodiles and sharp white bone stuck out from it’s elbows. The angry red skin blended into a lighter gradient towards its pectorals and abdominals. Rhoma was curious about that coloring. She only ever knew Yautja to be a mix of browns and greens. She’d never seen anything like it.

She wasn’t given more time to analyze. The gray alien began to grunt low and rhythmic. It had blocked the path of the Yautja, face to face and defiant.

“Step aside.” One of the guards spoke up, trying to sound authoritative, while his focus was still primarily on the Yautja.

The gray alien paid him no mind as it blew that rancid breath into the emotionless mask of the Yautja, exposing those giant tusk-like teeth. The Yautja just stood, back straight and unphased by the gray alien’s threatening demeanor.

“He said move back you Koei shit! You deaf?! Don’t make us ask you again.” The other Peacekeeper barked.

The Koei, as they had called the gray alien, began to speak in that nasty gargled voice, in a language Rhoma couldn’t begin to understand. Then it seemed to chuckle. The laughter reverberated off the walls of the ship, a few other aliens joined in weakly. The sound was mocking and deliberate.

But the Yautja just stood there, silent as death and unmoved. The Koei sneered and spat, then lumbered back to his place in the line up, tugging his unwilling followers along.

Once the Koei had let them be, the Peacekeepers jabbed at the Yautjas back, a silent stern order to move next to Rhoma. Without so much as a grunt, it stepped up to the wall to her left and faced the guards. Rhoma’s chain locked with his, in a blue neon light.

The guards chucked to themselves as they left them, impressed with themselves, though it sounded more like nervous relief.

She was surprised to see it act so cooperative to the authority of humans. It must have been just as humiliating for him as it was for her, if not worse.

It wasn’t interested in her it seemed, but its whole aura felt like white hot menace. Its body even gave off waves of heat like the old gas cars Rhoma used to see when she was young.

She was wary of every single movement, worried even the slightest touch could set it off. She almost wished for the Koei again. But, at least this guy didn’t smell.

Not long after, the sound of shouting and affirmatives rang through the ship. They were preparing for take off. The ship shook to life as the engines started, drowning out any and all sound other than the harsh explosion of the jets. The ramp began to raise and the light from the outside folded away leaving the ship dark, save for the dim red lights cast over their bodies.

The ship lurched and everyone lurched with it. The Yautja stood firm in its spot and Rhoma was forced to try and keep her body from bumping into it as they began take off.

Their journey had begun.


	2. Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a little shorter. Please leave comments and any help me out with any grammar errors. Thanks!

They had been traveling for hours.

It had taken at least 3 hours to get off planet and another 5 just to leave the star system. They hadn’t been given any ETA and there were no guards in sight to ask. The only way Rhoma knew they were even still around was because of the security cameras that lined all the walls of the ship holding area. She had no idea how much longer she’d be here.

The trip continued on and the ship fell into a relative quiet. Others tried to find rest wherever there was room. Space was limited and the air was stuffy. If any actual sleep happened it was plagued with anxiousness and discomfort.

Her knees burned, but sitting down on the hard grate floor did not seem like the better option. Besides, her Yautja chainmate still stood tall and straight. She was not about to try and make any sudden movements that might spook it into crushing her skull. She leaned against the wall, in an attempt to relieve pressure from her aching feet.

Besides the impending threat of death, there were actually a few perks to being chained to a merciless intergalactic hunter. Everyone seemed to have lost their interest in starting trouble with her. No one dared to get close to the Yautja. The fear of potential retaliation was too great. Still, she would not say she felt “safe.” It felt more like being trapped on a boat surrounded by sharks, but that boat was strapped to a set of explosives. She was safe for now, but who knew for how long.

It didn’t speak much. Silent as the grave from the moment it walked in. Was it mute? Sick? If this thing was sick she’d hate to see what healthy Yautja looked like. It was probably just angry with the situation and in no mood to strike up conversation. Could it even speak Rhoma’s language? Did it even feel?

Rhoma realized she didn’t know much of anything. They were briefed on the Yautja in their “Galactic Hostiles” course at the academy. Anyone working in the field was required to know about the Yautja. Where they liked to hunt, their diet, and some common cultural norms. They even learned a few words from the Yautja language.

She’d never actually heard of a hunt occuring in her lifetime, so the class seemed redundant to her. Yautja were dangerous. If you encounter one, get out. She knew that. The other aliens knew that. Even the guards knew.

The idea hit her all at once and she found herself wishing she’d paid closer attention.

She couldn’t get out of this. Not immediately anyway. She needed something to get her through this or she’d be dead within the week. She wasn’t sure how she was going to do it, or if it would even be possible. But it was her only chance at survival now.

She was going to make the Yautja her ally.

In the middle of her thought, without warning, she felt her arms being yanked roughly by the shackles clasped to her wrists. Her red companion had decided to sit. Even seated, the Yautja was almost her height. Rhoma stared down at that emotionless mask. Was it tired? The Yautja had shown no signs of weariness until now. If she could even call it that.

Then it let out a noise, the first real sound she’d heard from it on the entire trip. Something like a low trilling sound, curt and forceful. Some kind of order?

It let out a frustrated chuff, slightly muffled by the mask, then yanked down roughly on the chains. Rhoma just barely managed to keep herself from tripping right into its lap. A move that surely would have gotten her skewered.

It wanted her to sit. Perhaps to keep the chains from bothering it while it attempted to rest. Or perhaps it did not want to be left in a lower position.

Slowly, quietly, she sat. She turned her gaze away. It ignored her once again.

Back to silence. No more relaxed than before, but at least she wasn’t standing.

That entire exchange felt like walking through a minefield. She had no idea how she was supposed to pull this off. Yautja did not need companionship or socialization like humans did. She couldn’t get all friendly with it. Not that she was very good at that to begin with. She had to think of something. Some way to gain it’s trust. Use that trust to survive this place.

She looked around at the other prisoners. Watching them sleep. No longer snapping at her or buzzing with the intent to kill.

Though still tense, Rhoma took the brief moment she had to rest while she still could.

Next to her she could hear the Yautja breathe, slow and deep. Steady like a predator in waiting. If this thing wanted her dead it would have done something by now. Rhoma was little more than an inconvenience to it. Which somehow made her feel safe.

Rhoma shut her eyes, exhausted, pathetic, and without any fight left. She could feel heat rising off the Yautja’s skin. It was warm.

  
She had to run.

Running was her only option. It was the only thing she had left. The only thing keeping her alive.

Sweat and blood dripped from her brow, stinging her eyes. She wiped it away roughly. The fluorescent lights flickered above. Behind her the lights flickered into darkness as she passed them. One after the other. Chasing her.

Rhoma turned her heel down a corridor, skidding against the sterile lab floors. She was so close. She just had to make it to the lab. She clutched her gun and broke into a sprint. It burned. Everything screamed.

A sickening wet sound, like meat slapped onto cold metal. Everything stopped. In front of her, a red Yautja with a mask like death. She rose off the ground, sputtering blood, and two huge blades sunken deep into her stomach.

The lights flickered above and then, darkness.

Rhoma inhaled sharply, catching a scream in her throat. Something she always learned to do after waking from night terrors.

The aliens around her gave her a passing look. Annoyed slightly by her outburst. Some stood and moved about. The object of terror from her nightmare still sat, unmoving.

She was still on the ship. There was no lab. At least, not anymore.

She felt the ship shake. A few other aliens bumped each other and they growled and pushed.

They were landing.


	3. The Shark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for being so patient and waiting for me to get this chapter out. It's very long to make up for the very long wait time. Even after going over it 10 different times I'm sure there is still typos/grammar mistakes, but you guys have waited long enough. So here it is! Mistakes, choppy sentences, and all. Please let me know if you find any issues so I can fix it because it drives me crazy. 
> 
> Also I'm changing the name to Penance because it fits better. Hope that's not too confusing!
> 
> WARNING: There is graphic depictions of violence in this chapter! Also lots of cursing and descriptions of major claustrophobia.

The ship doors groaned open, releasing the stale air that had been stewing in the hull for almost a full day. The prisoners began to shift and move about, their chains rattled as they muttered amongst each other. Rhoma stretched her aching limbs, stiff from hours of inactivity. She was relieved to fill her lungs with the fresh air rushing in from outside.

Her moment of respite was short lived as the Peacekeepers soon made their appearance. They marched up the ramp and pushed into the cramped space, forcing everyone into lines.

Peacekeepers were Human, but just barely. They worked as a private disciplinary sect of the US Marines and they ruled over the human controlled territories of space.

She watched them move about the hull in that cold and unfeeling way. It reminded of her of the Peacekeepers she used to see when she was little and still living in that small fishing town. They promised everyone safety and security, so all human families could live in harmony without the threat of alien invasion. They were given the freedom to carry out their vision. But they were not what they seemed. They ruled harshly and over the years and had only used their power to amass more territories, block off space exploration, and commit countless invasions themselves. And when humans began to explore the far reaches of space, they left all the poor and weak behind to rot on a dying earth.

Rhoma stood quiet with her head low behind the Yautja. In an attempt to avoid the brunt of their brutal authority.

They disembarked from the ship. Followed closely by the guards.Their shouting mixed in with the chatter and shuffle of exhausted prisoners.

She was hardly able to understand their orders over all the commotion. The best she could do was follow as the group was herded down the corridor in rows. Quick shoves and nasty threats were enough to deal with those who had trouble complying.

There was never direct violence. But the threat of a potential outburst sat beneath them like a pressure cooker. Both sides were expecting an explosion of force at any time.

Rhoma was careful not to step on the heels of the Yautja as they walked. Despite the stress of the situation, the Yautja moved without worry. It kept its stride even and steady. Completely unaffected by the uneasiness that seemed to plague the rest of the prisoners.

As they walked Rhoma could see that the facility was huge. The ceiling was high and the hall expanded long and far into the base. Thick metal pipes tangled their way up the walls from the floor and into the ceiling. Those pipes let off random bursts of steam, making the air thick and hard to breathe. So much for fresh air.

She wanted to memorize her way back to this docking area, but this place wasn’t just huge, it was complex. A maze of multiple corridors and pathways seemed to snake and intersect everywhere they walked. There were no discernable landmarks or objects. Just the same winding hallways of pipes and dark metal.

After a few moments of marching, they arrived in front of a thick metal door. A guard lifted his visor for a retinal scan and the door came to life, opening before them and revealing a small room. He looked to the group, his voice mechanical.

“Get in.”

The group seemed hesitant and Rhoma was unsettled by the idea of more cramped dark spaces. But they had no choice.

Their chains clattered and their neat little rows became squished and deformed to fit into the limited space. The Peacekeepers filed in from behind. They surrounded the prisoners and kept them away from the edges.

A gloved hand slapped a trigger on the wall and the ground began to vibrate beneath them. The doors shut loudly and Rhoma was, once again, stuck in a confined space surrounded on all sides. An earsplitting beeping echoed in the room and the lights flickered. She wanted to run.

She felt something hot and pebbly brush her arm. It made her jump. She turned to see the Yautja towering above her. She was worried at first it might crush her for touching it, but it wasn’t looking at her. It was looking up.

Above them, the ceiling split and separated. Their platform began to rise and the sound of whirring metal lifted them.

It turned out the small room was actually a large elevator. They ascended into a long narrow tunnel. It was dark, save for a muddy yellow fluorescent light blinking in and out. But she couldn’t see the top or where it ended. The only thing she could see was the same piping that lined the walls outside, weaving their way through the insides and outsides of the facility.

This place did not seem like a normal prison. It seemed old and outdated. Not a place one would think to drop highly dangerous intergalactic criminals. Rhoma had hardly been given any information since her trial and conviction. She didn’t even know the name of the prison she was in. All she knew, was that it was an off planet “penitentiary.” Though she couldn’t begin to guess why places like that even still existed.

“Hey, where we are going?” Rhoma spoke up. Her voice was slightly hoarse from lack of use.

  
Her sudden vocalness disturbed some of the prisoners, who sneered and growled at the annoying human woman. 

The guards, however, ignored her. 

“Hey!”

Still nothing.

Frustrated, she made to move closer, wanting to get in someone's line of vision and demand answers. But before she could, a guard slammed her leg with a heavy boot, halting her mid stride. She bit her cheek to keep from letting out a shout. Her shin flared up in pain and that nearly toppled her. She glared at him, gritting her teeth.

“Shut the fuck up!” He spat. The visor gave his voice a tinny quality. Robotic.

He pointed his nightstick at her head. Some of the prisoners watched in mild curiosity.

“You are to remain quiet until asked to speak! Now, quit asking questions and get back in line!”

Rhoma could feel hot rage spread over her cheeks.

She suppressed the urge to spit at his feet and stepped back, favoring her shin. That kick would surely leave a bruise. Rhoma had been curious to see if the guards held any kind of empathy for a human woman.

They did not. But she already knew that.

The sound of metal clanging and shifting broke the tension. The floor dipped and locked in place. They had reached the top. Another panel above them opened and they rose up from the ground into another long hall.

This hall was much smaller. No pipes just smooth cold dark metal. They were escorted off the platform and ordered to stand there in complete silence. All of the prisoners seemed confused. But experience taught them the guards were not going to elaborate on their orders.

They just stood there, soundless. Rhoma felt the unease rise again. She looked up at the Yautja, trying to distract herself from the feeling. As she observed, she noticed that, unlike the others, it seemed to be more alert. It was listening. Watching.

A bit curious and perplexed, she listened closer. She faced forward in an attempt to tune her ears to something she wasn’t sure was there.

But the more she focused, the clearer it became. Piercing through the silence just up ahead, was the distinctive sound of boots stomping through the sterile hall. It grew ever closer until the others heard it as well. All them turned their attention to the sound.

A crooked older man came into view. He meandered his way down the hall, tailed by two guards who packed huge nasty looking blasters.

He struct Rhoma as odd almost immediately. He walked like he was headed to get his morning coffee. He was casual and non-chalant. No fancy uniform to proclaim status or superiority.

He was so different than all the other Peacekeepers He possessed this excited grin and wild pale eyes. His whole demeanor seemed a disturbing contrast to the tension of the group. And the closer he got, the more Rhoma felt dread slip over her like a lead blanket.

Rhoma did not know this man, but she knew his kind. All too familiar with the look of a man who enjoyed cruelty. A man who acted like it was his right to stomp on others with his unyielding power. He looked like the men who used to brutalize and terrorize her friends and family in the Philippines where she grew up. Rhoma could see it all reflected in those eyes.

The people in her village used to call men like him _“Pating.”_

_Shark._

This Shark stopped a few feet away from them. A row of Peacekeepers stood between him and the prisoners. Those pale bloodthirsty eyes traveled over the group, assessing them like a pack of cattle fat for slaughter.

After a long unsettling moment, he gave a toothy grin that was too wide to be natural.

“What an exciting group you’ve brought me today. We got all kinds of beasties...” His voice was grainy and low, caught on the edges with madness.

“You lot probably think you’re some tough shit ey?”

He moved a bit closer. Rhoma almost cringed. But she did not move.

“Welcome then! To the New Hope Intergalactic Space Penitentiary. This is where you will find penance and shed your old life and bring to light a new you. You’ve all been nothing but shit and amounted to nothing but body counts and victims. But here? You might actually contribute something worthwhile. But don't get it confused. This is not a fucking vacation. You're here to be punished and you will be.”

He spoke as if he’d rehearsed and recited it a million times. The other prisoners seemed generally unamused and indifferent towards the Shark and his strange speech. Afterall, to them he was just an old pale human. They might have been the ones in chains, but humans still weren’t intimidating creatures. She even saw the Koei roll those bulbous eyes and snort at him.

“And what’s this?”

She felt those eyes before she saw them. He was looking straight at her. She slunk back just a bit. As small as she tried to make herself, she could not help but stand out.

“What the fuck did you do to get your little ass tossed out here sweetie? Must have been pretty bad.”

Rhoma stared him down. Her nails dug into her palms.

“Heh...A real disgrace to the species aren’t cha?”

She could tell he was very deliberately fishing for a reaction from her. Taunting her. But she would not satisfy him.

He smiled wide, but it never reached his eyes. His attention turned from her but she knew from that moment it was not going to stop with him. He’d singled her out.

“Oh shit! Is that a fucking Yautja?” He exclaimed suddenly, making a few of the guards jump in surprise.

“Holy shit. Big fucker ain’t he? All red and angry like a fucking rash.”

He laughed, forced and loud. The sound coldly bounced of the walls. A few guards smiled and snickered at his remarks.

Rhoma looked at the Yautja and just as before it appeared completely stoic. Unphased by the jokes and mockery.

The laughter faded and the pale eyed man began to stroke his stubbled chin between his thumb and pointer finger. Regarding the Yautja carefully.

“Collins? How is it...that this fucking thing was allowed to bring that mask in here?”

His tone was deadly serious, but that smile was still plastered on his face. One of the guards, Collins presumably, stepped forward and stuttered out a nervous reply.

“Wh-uh...I’m not sure Sir. It had it when we picked it up...and...no one bothered to remove it…”

Collins’ words trailed off when the Shark craned his neck slowly towards him. He shrunk back in fear at the Shark’s eerily blank expression. That horrifying smile broke over his face. But he was anything but amused.

“Awe no...Don’t tell me you’re all scared of the big bad Yautja! Come on now, get that thing off it and bring it here.” The way he said it made him sound like a concerned mother, but it was disturbed and unsettling.

“...Sir?”

“Collins? Do I look like a fucking parrot? Did I suddenly sprout feathers in the time I’ve been here?”

“...N-no Sir.”

“Then why the fuck are you asking me to repeat myself hm?”

The fake cheery tone in his voice melted away. Replaced with a sharp and palpable rage.

“You whiney pissants can’t be afraid of this sorry red asshole. It’s a prisoner just like the rest of ‘em..And if one of you doesn’t bring me that mask in the next 20 seconds...it’s not the Yautja you should be worried about.”

He almost seemed excited by the prospect of punishment.

He was giving an order. They were obligated to follow through, but from their body language alone, Rhoma could tell they were reluctant. But they were stuck between the wrath of their superior and the menace of the Yautja.

Finally, two of the guards began hesitant movement towards the Yautja. The other prisoners moved aside to let them pass, watching them carefully. They approached it slow at first, Rhoma’s eyes darted between the both of them.

The Yautja remained still, which gave the guards just a bit more confidence. They were just a few feet away. White-knuckle holds on their nightsticks. Perhaps it really had no intention of fighting back, despite its obvious strength. The Yautja was still restrained, had traveled for hours, and had nothing to attack with. The guards looked to each other, their shoulders relaxed and they seemed bolstered by their superior being there.

Finally, one of them mustered enough courage to reach out for the mask. HIs fingers were just inches away from it.

Without warning, there was a sudden flash of brilliant red. Rhoma barely had time to process it before a powerful strike sent one of the guards flying backwards at an impossible distance. Before the other guard could retaliate, the Yautja brought its restrained arms down on his head. The metal cuffs caving in his skull with a sick crunch. His body dropped to the floor with a wet sound.

The Yautja let out a roar that Rhoma felt in her very bones. The Shark just stood there and smiled.

With that, whatever invisible rule had kept the prisoners calm up to this point was soundly destroyed. The aliens roared and jeered, attacking guards and pulling at their restraints. Rhoma dodged the flailing limbs on pure instinct. Her chain kept her imobile and locked in the middle of the violent mosh pit. She was shoved and pushed in all directions, eventually she lost sight of the Yautja and whatever was going on. She became stuck, squeezed between aliens far larger than herself and unable to move.

The guards moved in, attempting to curb the sudden riot. She heard screams and shouts from both sides. Screeching and wailing in all different languages and animalistic noises. Electricity sparked, clothes tore, and metal shrieked and clanged.

It was pure chaos. The jostling between aliens and the barrage of sound ruled her brain. She couldn’t think clearly. She tired to elbow her way through the hot and sweaty mass of bodies, but it proved extremely difficult with her wrists still bound in heavy metal shackles. The sharp stench from them left her unable to gather fresh air. She was going to be crushed. Suffocated between strangers bodies and left a lump on the ground.

Her only chance of escape was the small pocket made just around where the Yautja was. She could feel the tug on the chain pulling her towards it.

Rhoma grit her teeth and wrapped that connection around her hand and wrist. She dug her heels into the ground, renewed with determination. She was not going to die. Not like this. Not yet.

She gave a sharp decisive jab at the neck of an alien currently crushing her lungs. It shrieked and fell over. Then, like a wild desperate animal, she clawed her body out of the mass of flesh and limbs, using the chain connection to pull herself forward. Her face and arms were slick with sweat that was not entirely her own.

Finally she broke free. She fell out onto the ground in the bit of open space closer to the Yautja, gasping for breath.

She looked up then at the scene before her and her eyes went wide.

There were several men on the the Yautja. surrounding it and preventing escape. But the Yautja spent little energy dispatching them. Just as one guard charged it was ready with a kick to his midsection. Another guard tried to bring his nightstick down on its back. But it quickly turned and slapped it away. Knocking him back into another guard in the process.

Next to the Yautja, these strict military officers looked like amateurs. They were balked and unable to restrain it. Afraid to approach for fear they might meet the same fate as their comrade, who currently laid dead in a spreading pool of blood.

Every muscle in the Yautja’s body moved with awesome power, but in dichotomy with complete control. Each blow and attack was planned and timed before any of those nightsticks could even touch it. The strikes. The precision. It wasn’t just brute force, it was calculated.

It was like nothing she’d ever seen. The product of millions of years of fighting and adapting.

Suddenly, she saw one of the guards fly past her towards the Yautja, nightstick ready in hand. The Yautja was preoccupied by a charge from straight ahead, leaving its back exposed.

Her feet moved before she knew what she was doing.

She shot out her leg and tripped the guard. He fell hard onto the floor, his nightstick clattered to the ground. She kicked it away and stepped over him, dashing towards the others. The first guard she hit was the bastard who knocked her in her shin earlier. She dead legged him from behind and he toppled over yelling out in pain. Rhoma gave him a kick to his jaw for good measure. She took sadistic joy in the cracking sound it made.

Another guard was alerted to her, ready to strike her across the face. But Rhoma was ready. She sidestepped him and wrapped the chain around his neck in a swift fluid motion. He choked as his body jerked forward from the momentum but his head and neck were held in place by the chain. Rhoma was reminded of the people she’d killed this way. Soundless. Wheezing and grasping at their throats. It was muscle memory to her now.

Killing him would not benefit her at the moment however. She took a page for the Yautja and knocked him out cold with the metal restraints on her wrists with a swift strike to the temple. It would not kill him, but it was enough to incapacitate.

Some of the guards became momentarily distracted by Rhoma’s outburst, which gave the Yautja just enough time to knock them back with a powerful swing of its huge arms.

No longer separated by guards, it stopped and regarded her for a moment. Looking down at the passed out guards around her feet. She was panting and blinking away the sweat dripping from her brow. It stared at her and she did not tear her eyes away from it for one second.

Its breathing was still even. Like it had barely exerted itself at all. Its was still in attack-mode, but it did not move on her.

‘That’s right, I’m on your side’

Rhoma tried to convey this thought as best she could through a submissive body language. Hands low, head bowed. But still she asserted herself by keeping her gaze locked with its own.

They stayed like that just watching and assessing each other. Its stare was deep and endless. Like a black hole.

But their connection was broken by the wailing sounds of pain from another prisoner being picked up and chucked across the room. Hitting the metal wall with a loud clunk.

The man responsible grinned from ear to ear. A smile that never reached his eyes.

The Shark barreled through without warning at a blinding pace. He cut through the crowd of fighting guards and rioting prisoners with ease. He was on Rhoma and the Yautja in an instant.

Time stood still, Rhoma saw him jump then bring his elbow down on the Yautja’s head before either of them had time to react. It connected with devastating force and the Yautja’s head went rocketing into the floor. The mask cracking and bouncing off the metal.

This man had more power and speed than should have been possible for someone of his age and size. Rhoma could do nothing but stare as the Yautja toppled over, a choked growl of pain muffled through the mask.

Everyone froze then in complete and terrified awe. Prisoners and Guards. With one single blow, this man had brought a full grown Yautja to its knees. He wasn’t human. He couldn’t have been.

The Yautja was dazed from the hit it just took to the back of the head. It shook that massive skull, tendrils fell and tapped against the metal of the mask. It tried in vain to compose itself. It struggled to find its bearings and attempted to sit up.

Rhoma just stood there. Her eyes wide and shock still fresh. The Shark straightened out and looked down at the Yautja like a fresh kill.

“Ya see?” He called out to everyone. His voice penetrating through the tense silence.

“Nothing to be scared of. These things, their way of life...Well, it’s been dying for a long time.”

He knelt down in front of the reeling Yautja and spoke low. He stared into that onyx mask like he had no fear of death or dying.

“We’ve evolved too. The universe? It’s a lot smaller than it used to be. And you’re nothing but a dusty relic of that old world. Clinging to a bunch of dumbass made up codes.”

Rhoma could see the hard breathing of the Yautja. It was deep and angry. It huffed and growled defiantly under the mask.

“Hm. Even so, I really did expect more from you. Really it’s a shame.” He sighed. He sounded genuinely disappointed.

He snapped his fingers and the two huge guards that followed him in jammed their nightsticks into the Yautja’s neck. The electricity that shot through it would have been enough to kill a human. It roared in pain, it was a wail of frustration and fury so raw and primal it made Rhoma’s chest tighten for a moment. Like all of her own anger released in the sound of it.

The Yuatja’s body convulsed and seized until finally falling limp onto the floor, body smoking from the electric shock.

Everyone seemed in utter disbelief. But the guards used that as an opportunity to seize the prisoners out of line. They jabbed and punched at them violently. Any additional outbursts were quickly snubbed out. Many of the aliens receiving their own electric shocks.

None of it was really necessary though. Rhoma stood there frozen. The sight of the Yautja knocked out on the ground was enough to kill any motivation the prisoners might have had to riot. Rhoma had to admit, the sight of it upset her in a way she wasn’t sure how to describe.

Suddenly a guard rushed her which quickly brought her thoughts to a halt. He grabbed her arms and roughly subdued her, shoving her down on her knees. Rhoma struggled at first out of instinct. But she soon gave in, too tired to fight them anymore.

She continued to watch as the Shark maneuvered the mask off the Yautja’s head. Revealing its face for the first time.

The Shark made a noise of disgust.

“Fuck these things are even uglier than I remember. Get it outta my sight okay? Don’t piss your pants on the way there.”

Rhoma caught a glimpse before the guards moved it away. Even unconscious the creature oozed animosity. Its face was just as she’d seen in photos and artist renderings. It was impressive, but she’d be lying if she didn’t admit it was still a strange thing to see. It certainly was not something nice to look at by anyone’s standards.

One of the guards unlinked the chain connecting them before moving the Yautja away. The Shark followed where the connection had been and those pale eyes found her again.

“Well then.”

He sauntered over to her. She felt the vibration from his heavy boots in her knees. Other prisoners were also being escorted away. Rhoma now found herself restrained, alone, and at the mercy of the Shark.

He knelt down, making a popping noise with his tongue and looking Rhoma over. The guard held her still there, making sure she didn’t try anything.

“You know you’re really not supposed to be here. I don’t think the cells are even made for human living standards.”

Rhoma watched him with those dark eyes, roughly breathing through her nose as he talked to calm her nerves. She was pissed at his playing coy.

They both know exactly why she was here.

“You know what I can’t figure out? Why did you decide to start attacking my guards? Was the Yautja your buddy or something? Did you bond on the way here? Or are you just fucking stupid?”

She thought fast.

“Fuck you! I wouldn’t be caught dead with one of those monsters.” Rhoma spat, making sure to add extra venom to her voice.

“Those fucking things killed my whole unit 8 years back. I wanted a crack at it myself and your sniveling little guards were just in my way. If you were smart you’d smash that fucking mask right now.”

The Shark gawked at her, a look of disbelief on his face. Then he burst into loud uncontrolled laughter. His white toothy grin shone brightly in the low-light. This close to him, Rhoma could make out markings that traveled down from his forehead to his cheeks. They looked more like scars than tattoos. But they were also far too precise and intentional.

“You hear that?” He looked at the guard holding Rhoma down.

“She hates them! Really fucking hates them! How perfect is that? Holy shit….That kind of rage is beautiful don’t you think?”

He sighed and wiped a tear from his eye.

“Just looking at that Yautja makes you sick doesn’t it? It makes your hands shake and your blood boil...Makes you capable of things you weren’t aware you could do. ”

The way he spoke so animatedly about rage being beautiful made Rhoma’s skin crawl. But she didn’t let it show.

“You really think you are capable sweetie?”

Rhoma bit her cheek at the disgusting endearment. The Shark smiled. An idea formed in his mind.

“...Make sure she’s put in the same cell as the Yautja. I kinda wanna see how long she’ll last.”

Good, at least he wasn’t that smart. He did exactly what she wanted. But she played up her shock. She struggled against the guards hold on her, feeding into the Shark’s sick desire to see her futile struggle. She roared in protest and screamed all manner of curses and expletives at the man who had bunked her with her mortal enemy.

“Fuck you! Stupid prick! Give me the mask! I’ll smash it myself!” Suddenly, she headbutt the guard holding her. He let her go to hold the fountain of blood spilling from his broken nose. She lunged out, grabbing for the mask.

The Shark just rolled his eyes and sidestepped away from her attack with ease. She was only able to grab onto his pants before a sharp and intense pain fell down on her back. The air jettisoned from her lungs. She was slammed into the ground with horrible force.

She had no time to recover as the guard composed himself and quickly ran to her. He once again restrained her, this time putting his full weight on her body and keeping her head down.

The blow she had just taken put her out of commission, leaving her unable to move or fight back. She could sense the familiar creep of unconsciousness teasing at the edges of her vision.

The Shark came into view again. A taunting horrid glint in his eyes.

“Feisty little human. Let’s just take a look at your file shall we?”

Her vision was a bit impaired from her position on the floor, but she saw him pull up his watch. A greenish hollowgram emitting from it. She saw her mugshot. Notes, letters, and records. Her entire personal profile at his fingertips, he began to read it aloud.

“Rhoma Capulong. Age 32. Worked for 7 years under Peacekeepers Military Space Force. Made Captain at age 24. Went awol on a rescue mission where she murdered 3 Weyland Scientists and 10 of her own unit. Afterwards, worked as a contracted hitwoman and smuggler. Several accounts of murder in the first degree. Desertion. Destruction of government property. Grand larceny. This list just goes on and on...”

Rhoma felt as though she might crack her teeth from gritting them in sheer rage. Her dream of that long hallway rushed back into her mind without her control like an invasive disease. That hallway that drove her to commit all those crimes.

The Shark delighted in seeing her distress. She could tell by the eltation painted over his expression.

“Seems like you kill more humans than even big red. Maybe you do belong here with all these beasties. What do you think?”

The pressure from the guard on her back and her sheer exhaustion were catching up to her. Despite the quickened pace of her heart. She felt was going to pass out any second.

“Tell me...what is it like being a killer of your own? Does it feel good? Is it thrilling?”

Rhoma gathered just enough energy to spit out onto the ground. The only appropriate response she could think to give a prick like him. He just laughed and spun the Yautja’s mask around on his finger.

“I’ll keep the mask I think. So I’ll always remember that big red shit. But you? After all this...No one will ever remember you.”

He held the mask in front of her face.

“You’re going to die here Rhoma. And I can’t wait for the show.”

The last thing Rhoma saw was that black mask reflecting her tired bloody face. Then she slipped into darkness.


	4. Cellmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhoma has a new roommate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Long time since I posted and I apologise for that! But I'm really pleased with the chapter and have already started work on Chapter 5. I do work full time and also run art commissions plus a webcomic. (@rosanacomic on Twitter if you're interested) so I don't have as much free time as I would like to work on this. But rest assured I have no intention of abandoning it for as long as I am breathing. 
> 
> I really appreciate everyone's love for this story and while I don't always reply I have seen and read every single comment and each one super helps motivate me to write. You guys make it all worth it honestly. 
> 
> Edit: there are a ton of typos and poorly worded sentences so if u see any let me know. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

**Chapter 4: Cellmates**

 

Rhoma awoke to pain and a perpetual throbbing through her skull. Echoes of the beating she received only hours ago made her bones weary and she felt as though her limbs were chained to anchors.

She laid there for a moment, half tempted to fall back to sleep on the bed which was nothing but a platform holding up a stiff vinyl mattress. It smelled sterile and and felt cold under her skin.

The cell was tiny. Dimly lit. No bigger than 100 square feet _maybe._  Nothing to it other than a small offset room with a sink and toilet hidden partially by a pathetically thin sliding door. Such a small room had Rhoma in the beginnings of panic. She could feel it swell in her chest, but she tried a small breathing exercise to subdue it. A trick she learned from some self help book that was probably helping hold up some coffee table now.

Rhoma felt the initial panic dissipate but it did not rid her of her feelings of anxiousness. When she went to turn a jolt of pain from the back of her neck halted her movement. The skin there felt strained and twitched like she’d been stung. She sat up quick, much to the protest of her aching muscles. Her fingers groped at the nape of her neck until they hit something round and metallic, about the size of a quarter. She tried to pull it off but it stuck to her skin like a tick, pulling and digging deeper into her flesh the more she struggled with it.

She fought with it a moment more before releasing with an aggravated huff. No use. This thing wasn’t meant to come off.

She blinked to let her eyes adjust and stretched her legs out on the bed.  At the very least, she could safely gather her thoughts here. Her first moment of genuine silence.

That's when she heard the deep and steady echoes of familiar breathing. She almost brushed it off as the residual groans and mechanisms of the prison. But as soon as she turned her head that thought disappeared like a drop of water in burning sunlight.  

There, not a few feet away, was the huge slumbering form of the Yautja. Stripped bare, with those long snake like dreads falling over the edges of the mattress.

She worried she might have disturbed it with all her noise. But those sunken black sockets appeared blank and unresponsive. She recalled the nasty blow it had received in addition to being shocked half to death. Even after all that, she suspected they must have sedated it as well.  That was the smart thing to do.

She only had one chance to briefly glance at it before it was taken away by guards. But now she could see everything in great detail. It had huge jagged scales that lined all the way up the top of a massive head, haloed by those thick and ebony tendrils adorned with decorative cuffs. She could see vicious looking mandibles and exposed sharp tusks. Rhoma thought about how some animals evolved to appear large and threatening to intimidate rivals, enemies, or prey.

It did the trick. Not only was it massively terrifying, it was for lack of a better term, fucking ugly.

But, if she was being honest, she much preferred this anglerfish-meets-weed-whacker bastard than to the Shark's crazy serial killer look any day.

Her blood ran cold and when she heard it release a low drawn out sigh. That massive chest heaved slowly like shifting earth. But it remained dormant, with nothing but the slow rise and fall of its chest.

It was strange to see such a creature laid vulnerable before her. She felt like an intruder. A thief in the night come into the dragon’s lair to steal its most precious treasure while it slept.

It was then that Rhoma remembered something important. She began to feel around at her jumper pockets. Frantic and hoping that they didn’t take it while she was unconscious. Her hand dove into her pocket and pulled out a pill sized metal object. It was black, and had tiny markings up the side that Rhoma was unable to read. She nabbed it from the Shark when she attacked him. Years of pickpocketing to feed herself aided her. He never even realized she had done it.

Of course, she had no clue what it was or if it could even help her, but it was a start.

Despite being in no shape to move, Rhoma took off her boots and laid them aside carefully. All she wanted to do was sleep but she could not afford to to just yet. This was her only chance to try while the Yautja was out cold. Her feet touched the cold metal floor and she lifted herself off the bed, suppressing a groan of pain as she made her way towards the front of the cell.

There was a heavy reinforced door keeping them in. It had nothing but a tiny window that Rhoma could barely see out of at her height. Not that it mattered much. It was completely dark.

    She stepped back and examined the door closely, looking over every inch. Maybe the thing she snagged off the Shark was some kind of key?

She held it up to the door. Nothing.

       Rhoma pouted slightly as she looked at it again, rolling it in the palm of her hand. It was tiny, slightly fragile, and easy to lose. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a key.

Rhoma sighed and abandoned the idea, slipping the strange thing back into her pocket. She leaned her forehead against the door and stared at her socked feet.

Despite her exhaustion she just stood there. She found her mind wandering to the words of the Shark, his lecture to the new inmates before the riot.

She’d never heard of “New Hope Penitentiary” and she made it her personal business to know about every prison in this sector. Killing runaways was regular work for her.

Penitentiaries were designed to be “rehabilitation” centers. To isolate the unlawful and teach them to repent and learn the error of their ways.

She knew at least for her, it wasn’t about rehabilitation. The Ministry wanted her to die behind these walls. Where no one would make noise about it. But it still didn’t explain why she’d never heard about this place until now.

She survived up to this point despite everything, but it was mostly due to sheer dumb luck. She was already feeling exhausted. She wouldn’t be able to defend herself if something were to happen.

As if to remind her of her hopeless situation, the muscles in her legs throbbed sharply and she winced at the pain.

This was about survival now. It wasn’t worth it to ponder plans or mysteries. If she kept trying to push it she knew she wouldn’t have enough energy for the next day. So she resigned to go back to sleep for now and resume her worries when she woke. She’d think of something tomorrow.

Satisfied with that, Rhoma turned to go back to her stiff bed, running her fingers through her short blue hair and ready to let her mind slip into sweet nothingness.

She froze when she saw bright angry red.

The Yautja was awake, standing, and staring right at her.

Rhoma’s heart dropped like a stone in her belly. She hadn’t even heard it get up. Was it awake this whole time? How long had it been standing there?

No longer restricted by shackles, it flexed those wicked claws, the muscles in its forearms strained and tense. The look in those piercing golden eyes could strip the flesh from bones. The sensation was that of pure hot rage and it mixed with her cold terror. The feelings rushed over her in a crashing waves.

She didn’t blink. She barely breathed. She just stood there like a mouse caught out in the open, every inch and mynute detail being watched by the stalking cat. She poised for it to strike. Unsure if she would be able to avoid it.

It continued that flesh-melting stare for what felt like an eternity. Then, like a bronze statue brought to life, it moved toward her.

Everything happened fast. Her breath quickened. She was completely boxed in on all sides. Nowhere to run. The memory of the nightmare she’d had came flooding back to the front of her mind.

Long hallways. Flickering lights. The sickening sound of blood hitting the floor.

She could hear gruff ragged breathing as it came mere feet from her. Rhoma willed her aching body to move. Dropping all pretense and screaming out in pain as she attempted to launch her body out of its reach.

 

“Wait--!”

 

She was not quick enough.

 

She was plucked from the air mid-leap and slammed back into the wall. She howled as the new pain mingled with the preexisting. _How many more times was this going to happen today?_ The Yautja had her by the collar of her jumper, hoisting her to bring her eye level, leaving her feet kicking helplessly in the air.

It let out a short, forceful roar. Hot angry breath blasted over her sweaty face. Her hands shot to its wrist to attempt to free herself, her blunt useless fingernails digging into that thick scaly hide. It was like trying to pry at stone. The skin felt like blacktop pavement in the middle of hot day. Her animal mind sent off a million different warnings at once, she could barely process it all.

 

“Wait! Stop!” Rhoma struggled out.

 

_“Pauk-de-i!”_

 

It snarled and slammed her once more into the wall.

 

So it did speak. Deep, garbled, and broken. But horrible and ferocious.

 

Every fiber of her was telling her to fight back, to kick and scream and bite until she could find a soft opening and jab her elbow in there. Kill it dead before it could kill her. But with nothing but her bare hands, she was little more than a useless sack of meat.

Rhoma did not scare easy. A life of hunting criminals steels a person to a lot of dark shit. But it did not mean she had no fear. Fear kept her smart. And right now her fear was telling her to get out of there anyway she could.

Steeling herself, she squeezed her eyes shut to refocus.

She removed her shaking hands from its wrist and raised her palms up to convey submission. She opened her eyes, fixing them firmly with the Yautja’s own burning stare.

She could not read its expression, but she felt the burning fury. The coarse breathing went from harsh to steady, but kept that vice-like grip on her. Its eyes narrowed at her, analyzing her hands and body language carefully.

Her heart pounded a heavy drumbeat in her skull and she drew hot long breaths through her nose. But she kept her gaze constant and unwavering.

 

“Listen. Listen to me!” She yelled out trying to keep those nasty fangs away from her.

 

It made a noise like something between a growl and a roar. The Yautja just seemed to become more irate. It shoved her against the wall again, punching the air out of Rhoma’s lungs. She coughed, one hand went back to its wrist the other pressing against its impossibly hot chest.

 

“Listen-I can help! Killing me is pointless!” She strained out.  Another string of strange words, and something like a laugh?

 

“I can find out where they took your mask. I’ll get it back for you.”

 

The growls rolling off it sounded like a jet engine ready to run her over. But it let her continue.

 

Rhoma was bluffing. She had no clue where they took that mask or how to get it back. But damn it if she wasn't going to use this to keep herself alive.

 

“Let me live and I'll work with you. I swear!”

 

Those strange crab-mandibles twitched, a low trill echoing out from its throat. It paused for a moment, then brought those claws up to Rhoma’s neck. She flinched, expecting the sensation of warm blood to trickle down from her freshly sliced neck. But instead of piercing her, those fingers reached behind her neck, exploring slowly down the base of her skull to the bones of her neck until it hit the metal tracker.

Its hand was so warm, rough, and she could feel the claws gently scrape across her skin, reminding her that it could tear through her like tissue paper if it so much as flicked its wrist. The thought made her shiver.

The Yautja growled, that sharp brow furrowed further. It removed its claws and she released the breath she had been holding onto. That hand disappeared behind those long locks to feel at its own neck. Their gaze finally broke, the eyes turned away in thought.

For one long agonizing moment It held her there. It looked at her past that menacing brow. Locking its gaze with her one more time. Then it chuffed and like she weighed nothing it moved them both over towards the small bathroom. Without any pretense it shoved her in, her backside thudding harshly on the hard floor.

Rhoma was dazed only for a moment and she quickly regained her composure enough to scramble back onto her feet. Only to be shoved down by a powerful kick. Forcing her to sit back down.

 

“Augh! You fuc--”

 

It looked down on her, eyes regarding her with an air of disgust and superiority. And then it laughed. Actually laughed at her. A low villainous laugh that sounded like it was straight out of some Saturday cartoon.

Rhoma was pissed now but she bit her tongue and glared at the fucker. It roared at her one final time filling the tiny room with the awful noise.

Then it shoved the bathroom door closed. The force of it shook the entire frame of the bathroom. Leaving Rhoma bruised, exhausted, and alone in the small room.

As soon as the door was shut she panicked. Rhoma’s anxiety towards small enclosed spaces made her jump up and immediately try and leave, despite the danger of the Yautja right outside. Her fingers caught the edge of the handle but it did not budge. The Yautja had closed it with such force that it jammed the metal together. Fusing it and locking it in place.

 

_No no no no._

 

Rhoma felt her vision shake and her mind go fuzzy. She barely registered kicking and screaming in futile efforts to escape. She could feel her throat closing. The walls shrinking.

This place was hell. And she had been settled with her own personal demon tormentor.

She slumped back down to the floor. Fuming and tired. She brought her knees to her chest to make herself smaller, like that would somehow make the room bigger. She rested her heated skin against the cool metal sink. There wasn’t even enough room to lay down. And her only comfort was a small sink and a toilet.

This was never gonna work.

She thought by some long shot, the Yautja would have been impressed her ability to fight off all those guards. That maybe they built an unspoken respect or understanding.

What a load of bullshit. And how dumb was she for believing it?

All the classes were wrong. Yautja were cruel ornery beasts with no patience and no desire to make bonds. Why did she ever think this dumbass desperate plan would work? And how much time did she have left?

Rhoma’s anxiety stayed with her through the night. Gripping her like a leech, sucking the energy from her limbs and eventually causing her brain to shut off all other thoughts. She played loosely with the metal piece still nestled deep in her pocket. The only distraction she had.

She fell asleep in the flickering lights of the bathroom, while the Dragon stalked the outside.


End file.
